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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24208822">Intoxicated</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/redundant_angel/pseuds/redundant_angel'>redundant_angel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1000 words per chapter, Awkward Conversations, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Drinking, Erotica, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Intoxication, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Prompt Fill, Quote: "I Know What You Smell Like.", Scents &amp; Smells, Temptation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:36:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24208822</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/redundant_angel/pseuds/redundant_angel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley leaves his coat behind at the bookshop and Aziraphale can't help but notice just how <em>intoxicating</em> it smells.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>126</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>GO-Events August 2020: Aziraphale's Attire - He Has *Standards*</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. What's Mine is Yours...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrumptious_Bastard/gifts">Scrumptious_Bastard</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to Scrumptious_Bastard for her prompt: 'I know what you smell like.'</p><p>The rules were that I had 24 hours to fill this prompt and it had to be 1000 words or less, so I challenged myself to hit 1K words on the nose!  It wasn't easy and I had to do a lot of editing but the story is probably better off for it.  </p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale smacked his lips as he surveyed the substantial collection of wine bottles spread out before him in the bookshop.  <em>Another successful night of debauchery for the history books</em>, he mused.  He and Crowley had been drinking all evening and it was well into the wee hours of morning. </p>
<p>Crowley had sobered up before leaving, Aziraphale had made certain.  He didn’t approve of Crowley driving himself home while intoxicated, especially considering his driving was outrageous enough while sober.  The angel had, of course, protested for what could be considered a socially accepted amount of time once Crowley had stood up to leave, but it was mutually understood that the demon couldn’t stay. </p>
<p>Whenever they drank together, Crowley could always recognize when they were teetering just on the edge of doing something impulsive.  It was as though he could pinpoint exactly when Aziraphale was just a drink shy of throwing caution to the wind and letting Crowley get away with just about anything.  And he would have been right.</p>
<p>Aziraphale sighed.  He was floating in that sweet spot between being pleasantly inebriated and the cusp of oblivion, and now all he was left with was the depravity of his own thoughts and the uncanny way Crowley’s allure seemed to linger in the room, permeating all his senses.  It was almost as though he could still smell that outdated cologne Crowley was so fond of...</p>
<p>
  <em>Wait.</em>
</p>
<p>Crowley had forgotten his coat.  It was draped haphazardly over the back of a chair, where the demon had left it hours earlier upon their return from a fabulous dinner out and a leisurely stroll through St. James Park.  Would it be such a self-indulgent fantasy to wish for Crowley to saunter back through the door with some flimsy excuse on his lips about forgetting the damned thing?  The weather was unseasonably warm for this time of year and Crowley probably hadn’t thought twice about donning his coat before leaving.  Besides, surely he would have returned for it by now?</p>
<p>Once he was satisfied that Crowley wasn’t coming back, Aziraphale retrieved his glass of wine and took a lengthy swig, eyeing the black coat with interest.  It was the fitted one with the sharp lapel-style collar that the demon had owned for decades.  While most of the clothing Crowley wore was pulled from the ether on a whim, this coat was different.  It was real, for starters.  Made of cotton and expertly hand-stitched with a soft viscose lining, the coat was classic, sophisticated, and sexy, and it was worn-in just to Crowley’s liking.  Aziraphale knew the demon would inevitably miss it sooner rather than later.  In fact, it was likely that he would be back the next day to claim it, which was perfectly fine.  It wasn’t as if Crowley needed an excuse to come by the bookshop; he was always welcome. Aziraphale had made that quite clear.</p>
<p>Aziraphale swallowed the rest of his wine and made his way to Crowley’s coat with the intention of hanging it on the rack, as any good host would do.  The moment it was in his fingers, however, he paused.  Oh, how deliriously seductive it smelled.  Aside from Crowley’s cologne, which Aziraphale found rather overpowering but was too polite to mention it, the coat smelled just like the demon himself: a delicious aroma that Aziraphale genuinely enjoyed, but, like any guilty pleasure, rarely got the chance to indulge in. </p>
<p>Satisfied that no one was watching, he pressed the material to his nose and breathed in the intoxicating scent.  Aziraphale had a refined palate and was particularly adept at distinguishing between aromas.  He tried to parse it; whatever this devilish combination was that made up Crowley’s scent.  There were notes of cinnamon, cloves, and cardamom, along with subtle hints of red wine, dark chocolate, and the musky scent of leather.  Beneath all of that was the lingering aroma of smoke, reminiscent of a woodfire on a brisk autumn day or of the flame of a match that had just been snuffed out. </p>
<p>The mixture of scents was thrilling, and they drew Aziraphale in like a moth to a flame.  He pressed the coat to his face again and rubbed it against his cheek, inhaling deeply and burying himself in whatever essence of Crowley was contained within it.  He wanted to wrap himself in Crowley’s warm coat and imagine what it would be like to wrap himself in Crowley’s arms instead. </p>
<p>He hesitated.  He shouldn’t… he really shouldn’t.  Crowley was the original serpent of temptation, after all.  He was <em>meant</em> to smell good.  He was meant to attract others without them even knowing it was happening.  And here Aziraphale was, an angel, being drawn in just as any human would.  The only difference was that he <em>knew</em> he was being tempted and didn’t mind.  Besides, there were many other things about Crowley that Aziraphale loved.  He knew all of Crowley’s quirks, eccentricities, and even his flaws, no matter how smooth Crowley liked to pretend to be.  He also knew the goodness that lay inside the demon’s heart and loved him not despite of all of this, but because of it.  Crowley never had to <em>try</em> around Aziraphale.  He just had to be himself and that was more than enough.  Of course, it didn’t <em>hurt</em> that he smelled damned good, too. </p>
<p>Aziraphale draped the coat over his shoulders with a smile.  He wasn’t about to try wearing it; the risk of stretching the fabric was unconscionable, but thought did cross his mind.  He was meant to finish reading the last chapter of Sense and Sensibility.  He was meant to tidy up this mess they’d left behind in their revelry so that he could open the shop at eight.  He was meant to sober up.  Aziraphale did none of these things.  Instead, the angel switched off the lights and climbed the stairs to his bedroom, enveloped in the warm embrace of Crowley’s coat and the intoxicating scent of the demon whom he loved.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I was just thinking ... maybe I should make a sequel where Aziraphale *accidentally* leaves his coat in the Bentley??</p><p>What do you think? :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. ...and What's Yours is Mine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Crowley realizes that he has taken something that doesn't belong to him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Originally I wrote Chapter 1 as a stand-alone story but then I thought of an idea for part 2 and eventually a part 3.  I was planning to make it into a short series, but once I wrote part 2, I realized that it made more sense as a follow-up chapter than as its own thing.  So, I've decided to just continue the story under the same title and I humbly apologize for any confusion!</p><p>In keeping with the theme, Chapter 2 is also 1000 words.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley crossed the empty street and slipped effortlessly behind the wheel of his black Bentley, sparing one last longing glance towards the bookshop.  He turned the ignition and the engine roared to life. </p><p>“Sorry, angel,” the demon mumbled.  “One of these nights, I’ll stay. I promise.”  It was promise he desperately wanted to keep but there was no telling how long it might take to fulfill.  </p><p>Just like humans would, Aziraphale and Crowley tended to loosen up when drinking together.  They would forget the fact that one of them was a renegade angel and the other a reject from Hell and before long, they would inevitably slip into that age-old dance of inadvertent touches and fervent glances.  Personal space became a meaningless concept once they were five bottles and several hours deep in conversation.  Certainly, they didn’t need to drink to enjoy spending time with one another, but over the years it had become like second nature.  If Crowley were the match and Aziraphale the tinder, then the alcohol functioned as the flame, burning through their inhibitions and setting their desires alight.   </p><p>There had been several close calls over the years but this last one had probably been the closest.  Aziraphale’s hand had been on Crowley’s thigh and Crowley, with one arm resting across the back of the sofa, had slipped his fingers reverently into Aziraphale’s curls.  The angel had gone still, observing him with those storm-blue eyes, his lips parted in a silent question, and Crowley… Crowley knew exactly what he wanted. </p><p>The reality was that a sober Aziraphale would never let things get that far.  It was a risk that only a drunk Aziraphale seemed willing to take, and that was not good enough.  Not for Crowley, and certainly not for Aziraphale.  The angel deserved better than a drunk demon taking advantage of him.</p><p>So, instead of kissing Aziraphale, Crowley had made a lame excuse about how late it was and how he needed to get going, even though they both knew it was a lie: he had nowhere to be and time was nothing but a digit on Crowley’s watch.  If they <em>were</em> going to kiss; if Crowley were to lean forward and claim the angel’s mouth with his own, then he needed to be sure that it was something Aziraphale wanted just as badly as he did. </p><p>Crowley had wondered so often about what it would be like to kiss Aziraphale that he had undoubtedly dedicated three full lifetimes to the subject.  He had considered what it would feel like; how soft the angel’s lips would be and whether their mouths would slot together as though they were made for each other.  He had pondered what Aziraphale would taste like and whether he would taste just as inviting as he smelled.  The scent of him was lingering on Crowley’s skin and he could almost taste it now, with such clarity, almost as though the angel were sitting right next to him in the Bentley.  It was a little too real, in fact.</p><p>He tore his eyes away from the road.  There it was: Aziraphale’s cream coloured coat, draped across the passenger seat.  He must have snagged it accidentally in place of his own black blazer, which was nowhere to be found.  </p><p>The demon let out a sharp hiss of frustration.  It had been completely unintentional, although Crowley was aware of what some psychiatrists might say about the subconscious mind and unintentional actions...  Anyway, now that he had it, what was he to do?  Return to the bookshop and make the swap?  Aziraphale did love that dated old thing.  He’d had it for nearly two hundred years and it was, as he liked to say, in tiptop condition.  He would be terribly upset if he thought it had gone missing.  Then again, Crowley was nearly home and besides, Aziraphale, being as intoxicated as he was when Crowley had left, likely wouldn’t notice it was missing.  Might as well return it the next day. </p><p>When he arrived at his flat in Mayfair a minute later, Crowley elected to take the coat upstairs with him.  He couldn’t very well leave it in the car, he reasoned, as it might attract thieves.  There was, of course, another far less altruistic reason for bringing the coat with him.  He <em>was</em> a demon after all.  The second he was inside his flat and away from prying eyes, Crowley flicked his tongue out to taste the air.  Snakes have an incredible sense of smell and Crowley could glean so much more by using his tongue than just relying on his nose.  Just one more reason why he wanted to kiss Aziraphale so desperately.</p><p>The coat smelled exactly like Aziraphale’s bookshop: undoubtedly the scent of parchment and old books would be embedded within its seams for eternity.  Crowley could also make out the scent of Aziraphale’s cologne; some rather bland thing that his barber had suggested.  It was pleasant, but Crowley didn’t think Aziraphale needed it.  Angels were meant to smell heavenly, after all. </p><p>He closed his eyes and tasted the air again.  There it was: the enticingly rich combination of vanilla and cocoa, lavender, mint, and bergamot, and the lingering electric scent of rain on the ground after a thunderstorm.  If he couldn’t spend the night with the angel he loved, he now had the next best thing, and it smelled so damned much like Aziraphale that it was beginning to drive him crazy.</p><p>Crowley snapped his fingers and stood naked in his bedroom.  He knew he shouldn’t do this but he chose to ignore the angel on his shoulder in favor of the piece of heaven in his hands.  Crawling onto his bed, the demon drew the coat overtop of him like a blanket and curled up beneath its weight.  He breathed in deeply, letting go of the same destructive thoughts that plagued him every night of his wretched existence and thought only of Aziraphale.</p><p>He had never fallen asleep so fast.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!<br/>Comments and story suggestions are always appreciated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. When Two Hearts Collide</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The morning after is always awkward.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here is the final piece of the puzzle! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was all going to be rather embarrassing.  There was no way around it.  Aziraphale’s sharp cream coat was either going to smell like Crowley had slept with it (which he had) or it was going to smell like something that had never been worn once in its entire existence.  How was he to explain either of those scenarios to Aziraphale?  A quick demonic miracle to get rid of the wrinkles would have to do.  Crowley spent the rest of his afternoon trying unsuccessfully to think of an explanation to feed to the angel as to why his precious coat smelled like a demon's bedroom. </p><p>Around noon, his phone rang.  Before he could make his mind up to answer it, the call went to voicemail.  There was a click and the angel’s cheery voice cut in.</p><p>“Hello, Crowley, It’s me, Aziraphale. How are you? I suppose you can’t answer me that, seeing as this is just a recording of your voice. So, yes. I was wondering if perhaps there was a chance that you might-”</p><p>Crowley groaned and reached for the receiver.  “I have your coat.”</p><p>There was a pause on the line, then, “Oh?”</p><p>“Took it home with me by mistake. I’ll swing by the bookshop later to drop it off.”  He hung up before Aziraphale could say another word.  For situations like these, Crowley reasoned, it was best to just get the damage over with quickly, rather than drawing it out.  Being honest had to be better than avoiding Aziraphale for the next hundred years, he thought. </p><p>When Crowley swept through the bookshop doors around six o’clock, Aziraphale’s coat in hand, the angel rose to his feet immediately. </p><p>“Ah, there you are, Crowley,” he remarked casually, although there was nothing casual about his body language.  The angel was fidgeting nervously and looked rather flustered. </p><p>“You alright?” Crowley asked.</p><p>“Perfectly fine,” Aziraphale replied.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”</p><p>The angel was a terrible liar.  Crowley sheepishly held out Aziraphale’s coat.  “I, uh, must have grabbed it on the way out by mistake,” he mumbled apologetically.  “Funny, that.”</p><p>“Indeed,” agreed Aziraphale, and he stepped forward to pluck the coat from Crowley’s hands with a tight smile.  He slipped it on in a practiced motion like it was a literal piece of himself.  Crowley held his breath as he waited for Aziraphale to notice that his scent was all over it.  It didn’t take long.</p><p>“Erm, Crowley…” Aziraphale began, his cheeks were turning a fetching shade of pink.</p><p>Crowley wanted to sink into the floor.  He could feel his cheeks burning and had never been so happy to be wearing his sunglasses as he was in that moment.  “Yes, angel?”</p><p>“I’m not quite sure how to tell you this, but-”</p><p>Crowley sighed.  “Before you say anything else, angel, <em>yes</em>, I <em>may</em> have been naked. But nothing else happened. I swear it!”</p><p>Aziraphale’s mouth dropped open and stayed that way for several seconds before he composed himself.  “I know I had a fair bit to drink last night, Crowley, but I’m certain that if you took off your clothing, I would remember it.”</p><p>“I, um…” Crowley stammered. “Listen, never mind, forget I said anything.  Let’s just go to dinner, yeah?  My treat.  An apology, of sorts, for stealing your coat.”</p><p>“As you like, but I assure you, an apology isn’t necessary.  As I was about to tell you, you happened to leave your coat behind last night, and well, you may notice something is different about it.” </p><p>Nervously, Aziraphale retrieved the demon’s black blazer from his coat rack and held it open for Crowley.  This was something Crowley couldn’t recall the angel ever doing for him before.  They locked eyes for a moment, then Crowley turned and allowed Aziraphale to maneuver him into the jacket, straightened his collar and adjusting the sleeves.  Crowley patted himself down to smooth out any errant wrinkles and that’s when he noticed it.</p><p>“Aziraphale… were you wearing my coat?”</p><p>“Wearing it?” Aziraphale babbled. “No, definitely not, although I may have thrown it over my shoulders... it was quite cold in the shop last night, you see.  Is it that obvious?”</p><p>“No, it’s not that,” mumbled Crowley. “You left your ring in the pocket.”  He held the intricate piece in his hand and its intricate golden angel wings glinted in the light.</p><p>“Oh.” Aziraphale smiled.  “I believe that’s yours.”</p><p>“Don’t be daft, angel. You’ve had this ring for as long as I can remember.”</p><p>“I want you to have it, Crowley.  That is… if you’ll have me?”</p><p>Astonished, Crowley peeled his sunglasses away from his eyes so he could focus on Aziraphale.  “What are you saying?”</p><p>“Crowley, I love you,” Aziraphale managed, his sea-blue eyes twinkling.  “I don’t want to push you away any longer. I want to spend the rest of eternity with you. Would you… will you marry me?”</p><p>The demon garbled out a few unintelligible noises.  “Can I think about it?” he finally said.</p><p>The angel’s hopeful smile faltered momentarily, and he looked like his heart might shatter into a million pieces.  “Of course,” he whispered, crestfallen. “Take all the time you n-”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>Crowley’s face cracked into broad grin. “I’ve had 6000 years to <em>think</em> about it, Aziraphale, I don’t need any more time.”</p><p>The angel was at his side in an instant, scooping the ring up and placing it snugly on Crowley’s ring finger.  Crowley kissed him deeply and all at once, Aziraphale’s intoxicating scent surrounded him, blending with his own and overwhelming each of his senses at once. </p><p>Aziraphale pulled away and nuzzled happily against Crowley’s shoulder. “Oh, and I’m sorry if your coat smells like a bookshop,” he laughed.</p><p>“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Crowley replied. “I’m sorry if your coat smells like…well, me.”</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous.  I’ll never want to take this off, now.”</p><p>“Never?” Crowley teased, leaning down to kiss Aziraphale once more.  And that evening, when Aziraphale asked Crowley to stay the night, he did.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This ended up going in a much fluffier direction that I had anticipated, so I hope this didn't disappoint anyone who was hoping for something spicier.</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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